


I'll Help You (With The Pain)

by faeleverte



Series: A Pirate and Mercenary Love Story [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, mostly original
Genre: Other, tribute to David Bowie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 11:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5705491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeleverte/pseuds/faeleverte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zeg mourns the passing of the man behind the legend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Help You (With The Pain)

**Author's Note:**

> _Oh no love! you're not alone_  
>  You're watching yourself but you're too unfair  
> You got your head all tangled up but if I could only make you care  
> Oh no love! you're not alone  
> No matter what or who you've been  
> No matter when or where you've seen  
> All the knives seem to lacerate your brain  
> I've had my share, I'll help you with the pain  
> You're not alone  
> Just turn on with me and you're not alone  
> Let's turn on with me and you're not alone  
> Let's turn on and be not alone  
> Gimme your hands cause you're wonderful  
> Gimme your hands cause you’re wonderful  
> Oh gimme your hands.
> 
>  
> 
> _-David Bowie, Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide_

Nick unlocked the door at street level, glad to be home. He pulled open the door and flinched at the volume of the music pouring down the stairs and out into the street. With a frown, he climbed as quickly as his aging knees would let him. Nothing seemed out of place in the stairwell or along the third floor, but the pulse of drums and guitars that shook the hall did nothing to disguise the crash of crockery from inside the apartment. An animal-like howl of pain arched over the music and the sounds of destruction, and Nick raced through the sequence of locks on the door almost before he’d gotten his gun out of his holster. The track on the stereo came to an end just as he stepped into his own living room (at least, he thought it was his own; hard to tell, really, as it looked like a bomb had gone off), and the silence pressed loudly on his ears as Zeg whipped around, vase clutched in their hand.

They wore their favorite robe, black silk belt hanging mostly untied and the front lapels gaping to expose one bony shoulder and a broad swath of their torso. They watched Nick with huge, empty eyes, and their mouth moved, saying something he couldn’t hear over the final chords of Suffragette City. Shaking their head sadly, Zeg looked down at the vase, knuckles whitening as they squeezed harder until it cracked and finally shattered in their grip. The broken pieces rained down on the drifts of books and paper, broken dishes and shattered light bulbs that spread across the floor.

Obviously, Zeg had heard about the death of David Bowie. For some reason, they also appeared to be taking the loss _very_ personally. He’d known they were a fan– how could he not when he’d been well-educated on the entire discography of the man almost from his first month of living with Zeg? But this seemed sharper, angrier, than merely the loss of a favored musician. 

For all of Zeg’s dramatics, they rarely seemed upset over much of _anyone’s_ death.

“Baby?” Nick carefully put away his gun and stepped forward, trying to ignore the crunch under his boots, hands spread wide to show he was unarmed. “Zeg?”

A much quieter guitar kicked in, choppy acoustic chords, followed by the throaty flatness of David Bowie’s voice before age had added extra mellowness to tone. _Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide. Final track on The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars._

Zeg shook the remains of the china off of their hands and then covered their face, a cut on their palm smearing blood over their cheek. Their shoulders hunched, and sobs began to shake their skinny frame. Nick quickly closed in to pull them into his arms, smoothing the silk robe over their back. He pressed one kiss softly to their shoulder and then pulled the front up and closed to cover them. Zeg curled into his chest, crying helplessly as he held them and tried to figure out if he’d screwed up somehow. The song wasn’t long, and Zeg leaned into Nick’s arms, and sobbed harder with each beat. Zeg took a shuddering breath on the last chord before speaking in the gap before the album began again.

“I knew him. We met way back when.” They wiped their eyes again, smearing more blood over their face. Nick was reminded, for one brief, crazy moment, of the red flashbolt on the face of Bowie’s Aladdin Sane cover. “I was just 14 the first time we spoke. He was...kind. To me. For a very long time.” They huffed a small laugh. “He once even proposed alternate pronouns for me, when I did not yet have one. When I still didn’t know…”

Zeg took another deep, shaky breath, and Nick hugged harder. As the music kicked up again, soft, easy drums leading in, Zeg started to sway slowly to the beat, and Nick followed the flow of their body. He pressed in close to hear Zeg’s tear-rough voice over the sound system.

“He’s gone.” They looked up into Nick’s face, the blue of their eyes stormy and dark, and he nodded to show that he’d heard. “We just received the call from...a mutual friend. Yesterday. _Yesterday_. And no one thought to tell us until today. As if over 40 years of friendship was worth…” They took another breath and shook their head, dark hair bobbing around their face in a tangled cloud. “I suppose that’s unfair. Those who were there, who were with him, they had other concerns.”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Nick said, kissing their hair, their neck, their lips. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know you knew him. Didn’t know you wouldn’t have heard, either. I’d have called if I...I’m just so sorry.”

“I just...I knew he was sick.” Zeg shivered. “I knew he was sick, and still I did not go to him. I never…. We have been so busy, the two of us… And he...he _understood_. He was so kind, as ever. But I never got to see him. And, oh Nick! How do I live with myself now?”

“How did you not know? That he was gone, I mean.” Not a helpful question, but one Nick couldn’t quite manage to hold in. “It was all over the internet pretty much as soon as it happened.”

“You were gone, and we decided to take a day off from knowing everything. Just one day. We’ve learned it’s important from time to time. To just be.” Zeg slipped away from him and examined the cut on their hand, moving toward the sink in the bathroom to rinse it off. “Although, after this, maybe we will _not_ take a day off again.”

They stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind themself, and Nick surveyed the chaos that had been their peaceful home. The trip to Washington had been so short, just flying there and flying back with barely time to do more than pass on the information SHIELD needed and nap on the plane. He’d been looking forward to getting home, being in his cozy little flat on his cozy little couch with his snuggly (not so little) lover under a big cozy blanket. Looked like that plan needed to be postponed. He went over to the stereo, turning it down but not off.

First thing was to get Zeg tucked into their bed with something hot to drink and maybe a bit of booze. Second thing would be to get the glass off the floor so Zeg didn’t step in glass when they got up again later. Third thing would be to get in the bed _with_ his pretty Zeg and try to soothe away some of their heartache. 

He eventually found the kettle under a stack of files that had obviously been flung with some force across the room, fished it out, filled it, and pressed the button to get it boiling. While he waited, he collected the papers strewn across the counter and floor, tucking them into a neat stack for Zeg to go through when they’d regained their temper. He leaned the broom against the wall in easy reach as the light clicked off on the kettle. Zeg came out of the bathroom just as he poured the water over the grounds to steep, so he picked his way carefully across the room and collected their bony frame in his arms to carry them to bed. Wouldn’t do to have them stepping on something before he could get the floor swept. Had nothing to do with just wanting to hold them close again.

“Nick, we can walk,” Zeg said haughtily, but they looped their arms about his neck and leaned their face against his. He kissed their cheek, and they sighed and relaxed into his hold. “But we’re glad we don’t have to, just this once.”

He kissed them again as he put them down, before tucking their legs under the covers and fluffing the pillows behind their back; it was a clear sign of their level of sadness that they let him fuss. Zeg didn’t usually allow for fussing, preferring to do the mother hen act themself. After getting Zeg settled, Nick went to finish the coffee. He added sugar and cream and a splash of something alcoholic to settle their nerves. He carried it over to the bed and sat down on the edge for a moment.

“Thank you, Nicholas,” Zeg said, taking the cup in one hand and his cheek in the other. “Without you, I would be utterly lost.”

He kissed them again, fingers stroking over their thigh through the blanket. Eventually, he pushed himself to his feet and went to collect the broom. Just because he didn’t do much housework in recent years didn’t mean he’d forgotten how. Zeg watched him work over the rim of their cup, eyes huge and still so sad and lost.

“I’m sorry I’m such a bother for you, Nick,” they said, finally looking away and toying with a bit of fringe on one of the blankets on the bed. “That you’re always having to make allowances for me.”

Nick dropped the broom and stumbled over the coffee table in his hurry to get across the room and get his arms around his sad, mercurial lover. 

“Never a bother, baby,” he said, kissing their lips, their eyelashes, their cheekbone. “ _Never_ that. You’re perfect. You make so many allowances for me, for my...preferences. I can sweep up, if that’s all you need me to do. Such a little thing, for everything you give me. You’re just perfect for me, baby.”

Zeg huffed a laugh and returned his quick, worried kisses with a warm press of their own lips to his. Nick felt his own shoulders start to relax as signs began to point to Zeg regaining control of their volatile emotions. They broke the kiss with a tiny follow-up peck and leaned back against the headboard, reaching out to place their now-empty coffee cup on the nightstand.

“If that is true, then you owe thanks to the man I mourn.” Their eyes went unfocused, soft and distant, and a tiny smile flickered across their lips. Nick wrapped one of their long, thin hands in both of his. His thumb stroked over the delicate bones on the back of their wrist as they spoke, drifting into memories and nostalgia. “He was the first person to suggest that maybe I did not need to try so hard, that maybe fitting in was not worth the effort. He was the first person to tell me that he was _jealous_ of me, of my… How did he put that? Ability to be unique, I think he said. That I did it without even trying.” They laughed again, warm and fond. “He told me to be myself, to accept everyone around me on their own terms, too. And he was right. He was so, so right.”

Zeg pulled their hand free to get close and draw Nick into a tight hug. They locked their arms around Nick’s waist and rolled, pulling him over onto the bed and pinning him down by straddling his middle. Their unexpected strength never failed to surprise him and never failed to send a strange bolt of heat to his stomach.

“Way back when, when the world was young and so was I, he helped me find myself. And for that– for _that_ in particular, I will be forever grateful.” They leaned down for a kiss, pulling away just as it began to get fun, and Nick pursed his lips and mock-glared at them. Zeg chuckled softly and tapped the end of his nose lightly with one slender finger. “After all, being myself brought me you.”

Nick wrapped his arms around Zeg’s shoulders and dragged them down to aggressively snuggle them under the covers. There was a brief wrestling match as both of them tried to tuck the other under the sheets and blankets, but Nick eventually won when Zeg went limp with a soft, sad smile and a wistful sigh. 

“You’ll have to tell me more about him.” Nick kissed Zeg’s temple as they snuggled in against him, letting him pull a blanket over their shoulder to keep them warm and close. “Seems like anyone who appreciated you that much must’ve been someone I’d have liked a lot.”

And maybe he was only halfway through step two of his new plan for the evening, but Nick couldn’t refuse moving onto step three when cuddling was demanded of him so sweetly. Sweeping could wait. Although it made something ache deep in his chest to see Zeg’s eyes full of tears, to see the lines around their eyes, he still could appreciate this chance to be needed. Zeg settled in and started to talk, telling him about their adventures in the world of glam rock in the late Seventies and early 80s. Laughter sparkled through their voice, making them sound younger, more carefree, more playful than the Zeg he knew. 

The lamps that had survived Zeg’s release of grief still glowed around the room, and most of the floor was still covered by evidence of their temper, but cleaning up would keep. David Bowie sang on, immortalized by music, in the background, and Nick stroked Zeg’s hair, listening to them reminisce about a friend and possible former lover (Nick was afraid to ask, really). So he simply held them close and hoped they could see how much he loved them. He hoped Zeg knew that now they were not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Zeg does use singular personal pronouns through most of this. They're very upset. I know the feeling. If anyone needs us, Zeg and I will be in the blanket fort for a few days...
> 
> You can now find Zeg's personal blog on tumblr at [Waarzegster Takes Over](http://zegforreal.tumblr.com). Come get to know our favorite genderfluid assassin in all their snarky glory.


End file.
